


Moonlight Serenade

by Astrageneia



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort Food, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 22:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5644852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrageneia/pseuds/Astrageneia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gets a second chance at getting to know his former neighbor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight Serenade

Steve knew, on some level, that it was useless. If Bucky didn't want to be found, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. But somehow, the knowing couldn't stop the hoping, even after six weeks of searching. And there was always the possibility that Bucky had been recaptured and - he couldn’t think about that now. 

His phone buzzed, and he ignored it. It would be Pepper's nightly text, begging him to come to New York. Some nights it would be followed by a call from Tony, sometimes begging, sometimes threatening to cut off the funding that Steve had never asked for and yet found he had no choice but to accept. He had no energy to deal with either tonight, all he wanted was a good hot meal and the comfort of his bed. His key was in the lock and halfway turned when he remembered that there wasn't any food in the apartment. Forehead resting on the cool wood of the door, he fought back an irrational annoyance rising at the back of his throat, threatening to damage what was left of his composure. He regretted, then, quite deeply, having turned down Sam’s standing invitation to join his support group’s Friday night social outing. 

"Captain?"

He knew the voice, knew the footfall, but still found himself staring at his erstwhile neighbor as if he'd never seen another human being in his life.

"Can I come in?" Sharon asked, holding up two bags of takeaway that smelled like heaven. He wondered for a moment if he was hallucinating. 

"Uh. Yes. Please. Be my guest." He fumbled with the door, eventually getting it open and letting the both of them in. They stood awkwardly for a moment, before Sharon headed for the kitchen and began opening cupboards, searching for and finding plates. He stood by the door, searching for and failing to find something to say.

Sharon paused, holding a second plate in her hand. "Wilson called me. Said you'd had a long day and could maybe use some food. So here I am. Hope you don't mind."

"No, I... You have no idea how much I appreciate this. Sam called you?”

“Yeah. Agent Roma-Natasha introduced us before she went away. He-” Now it was her turn to blush. “He said that… look, I can just leave this here for you and go. But I’ve been wanting to talk to you, ever since, well, my cover was blown. Will you accept a small mountain of Thai food as a peace offering?”

Several snarky comments flashed through his mind and died on his lips. “Yes. Please.”

He was rewarded with a smile, a large styrofoam container of soup, and a spoon. “Tom kha gai. I wasn’t sure if you like spicy food, so I ordered it mild. Eat, I’ll put everything else on plates.”

Internally, there was a momentary debate between his manners and his ravenous hunger. Hunger won. He popped the lid off and dug into the soup, inhaling about half of it without really tasting it. Once the growl in his stomach abated a little, he focused on the flavors in the next bite. “This is really good.”

Another smile. He could get used to this. “Sam said you hadn’t crossed Thai food off your list yet.”

“He told you about the list?”

“I hate to break it to you, Rogers, but we all knew about the list. I think most of S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted a chance to add something or cross something off that list for you.”

He looked down for a moment, escaping those pretty, inquisitive brown eyes. His goddamned celebrity status. Time to change the subject. “Can I help you with anything?” 

“Just about got it. I’m useless in the kitchen, can’t cook to save my life - but I can plate take out like nobody’s business. Maybe some music?”

“Sure.” He put the now empty soup container on the corner and headed to the record player. “Any requests?"

"Whatever you were listening to last."

It was a Glenn Miller compilation, from one of the nights when he'd been thinking of the times that he and Bucky had curled up next the radio in Brooklyn, listening to the Chesterfield broadcast on CBS or the night in London when - best not to think of that now. He dropped the needle, and American Patrol blared out. “Music from when I was young. Hope you don’t mind.”

“I love it. Reminds me of… reminds me of spending summers with my great aunt.” Now it was her turn to dodge his gaze. “Dinner’s ready.”

He didn’t pursue the great aunt line, as he had his suspicions and that was another wound he wasn’t willing to pick at just now. Instead, he followed her to the little table that had never sat anyone other than him. They didn’t discuss S.H.I.E.L.D., Fury, or how she had lied to him for six months. They did discuss food, as he sampled each new dish with enthusiasm and she happily explained each of them and told him stories about the nine weeks she had spent backpacking as a “student” in Thailand, undercover for S.H.I.E.L.D. before the 2006 coup d’état. The good food and better company went a hell of a long way toward repairing his mood. 

Dinner ended, and the last bit of laughter faded away. They looked at each other for a moment and a slightly uneasy silence fell between them. Moonlight Serenade played quietly in the background, and as he watched, her face softened as she seemed to remember something very happy. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, very gently, afraid to break the spell but dying to know the answer. 

“This is one of my favorite songs. My great aunt, she… she taught me a lot. And she taught me how to dance, to this song.”

“It’s one of my favorites, too.”

“Steve, I wanted-” Sharon toyed with the paper napkin that was emblazoned with the takeaway place’s logo, and he found his mind leaping to an unexpected and not altogether gentlemanly place. He quickly schooled his thoughts and shifted his gaze back to her eyes. “Do you want to dance?”

His heart leapt into his throat and stuck there for a long moment. “Turns out I’m not much of a dancer. Never… still haven’t found the right partner.”

There was something that he couldn’t quite name in her eyes as she set the napkin down and studied him for a long moment. The last strains of the song faded and the record ended, leaving them in a silence that wasn’t completely uncomfortable. “It’s late,” she said, finally. “I should go. Let you get some rest.”

He swore silently at himself. She had risen and was starting to clear the table. “I can take care of this.”

She set the plate down. “The coffee,” she blurted.

“Would you like some? I think I still have-”

“No, Steve. I wanted to say yes. To you. To coffee. I couldn’t, because of my cover. But I wanted so badly to say yes.”

His instant exultation was immediately tempered by memories of the betrayal that he had spent much of the evening trying to forget. It had stung, at the time, precursor as it was to the larger hurt of the implosion of S.H.I.E.L.D. But Natasha had given her number to Sam. And Sam had called her to come here tonight. Both of those things spoke very, very loudly in her favor. What the hell. There was precious little sunshine in his life right now, and despite everything, her smile was still a beacon.

“Well then, Sharon Carter, who is no longer my neighbor and hopefully not actually here on assignment from Fury, would you like to go get a cup of coffee sometime?”

“Yes. I would like that very much.”

Now it was his turn to smile. “Great. How about tomorrow? At St. Mark’s, around the corner?”

“Sounds good to me,” she said. She gathered her things and he walked her to the door, not quite sure of what should happen next. She solved the problem for them both by popping up on to her tiptoes to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek before ducking quickly out the door. “Good night, Captain. See you tomorrow.”

*

Their coffee went well, then took a nearly disastrous turn when she admitted that she had fielded a call from Maria Hill, asking her to leave the CIA to come work for Tony Stark - looking after him. Again. But she hadn’t accepted it. She was there, at coffee, with him, for herself. He hadn’t completely believed her, but a bit of post-coffee sleuthing showed that she was telling the truth. He hated himself, just a little, for having been so suspicious. He tried to atone by taking her out to dinner a few days later, only to have to cancel when they got a lead on a Hydra cell in South America. Blessedly, she had seemed to understand, and greeted him and Sam on their return with Peruvian takeout. The three of them had stayed up until nearly three a.m., when, after a very productive debrief, Sam had broken out a few beers and they’d all swapped stories. 

Soon after, there’d been a trip to the National Gallery of Art. He told her about art school. She told him about growing up in Virginia and, over drinks after the gallery, she admitted that the great aunt she’d idolized was the same woman that he had been so desperately in love with. They agreed that it was a little strange. The next day, when he went to go visit his best girl, Sharon was there. He arrived just after Peggy had whispered something to her that had made her turn a shade of red that he wasn’t sure, until that moment, a human being was capable of. Sharon had beat a hasty retreat soon after, but he had a good visit. It was one of Peggy’s more lucid days. As he was leaving, she grasped his hand as tightly as she could. She started to speak several times, before finally smiling and saying, “Be happy, my dearest.”

When the next Friday night rolled around, there was a knock on his door. Sharon. This time with containers of Greek food and stories about her early days at S.H.I.E.L.D. She hugged him goodbye, and both of them held on longer than was strictly necessary. 

The following Friday, sushi, and a brainstorming session about an upcoming Hydra raid. When they were done talking business, she curled up next to him and asked him about growing up in Brooklyn, and he told her things he hadn’t even told Natasha. Before she left that night, he pulled her close for a slightly fumbling, but very sweet and gentle kiss.

A few days later, there was a knock at his door at midnight. Sharon. She’d been away on a mission, and he hadn’t expected to see her until the following night, they were supposed to go bowling. She looked as if she had been through hell. Wordlessly, he lead her to the kitchen, and she leaned up against a counter as he made two cups of hot chocolate. After a few sips, she broke down, and told him as much as she could about the mission that had gone so horribly wrong. Feeling completely helpless, he held her close until the tears stopped. He then lead her to his bed, tucking her in tightly before going to sleep on the couch. She left early the next morning, looking more like her usual self. She hugged him tightly before going, with a thank you and an apology, as she did not know when she would see him again.

Two weeks later, a knock. He rushed to the door, hoping. Blonde hair. That smile. For a moment, he believed in angels. Forgetting all advice from Sam to play it at least a little bit cool, he swung the door open wide, picked her up, and spun her around. She was laughing as he set her down, which he took to be a good sign. There was still a shadow in her eyes as she told him what she could, but the mission had been successful. On top of that, she’d gotten some intel that might help his search. He could have kissed her. She must have seen that in his face, and she closed the distance between them, and they spent the next long while there on the couch, refreshing his kissing skills.

*

Memories of that night were all he had to hold for too long after that, as they had little time to find for each other, despite mutual desire. The Avengers, the CIA, and Hydra all seemed bound and determined to keep them apart. No more knocks on the door, just quick moments around the globe snatched through careful scheduling. But finally, miracle of miracles, they were both in DC and both free for the night. Steve had been home for the day, and had tried his hand at cooking. His tom kha gai still wasn’t quite as good as the takeaway joint’s, but he was proud of it. He lit and blew out candles on the table multiple times, trying to determine whether or not it was too much. When he heard her knock at the door they were lit, so what the hell, he was all in. 

She was more dressed up then he’d seen her in a long time, dress, heels, the whole nine yards. His nerves stole his tongue for a moment, but he found it again to invite her in and tell her she was beautiful, then the comfort he usually felt around her took over again, and they chattered away. There was a lot to catch up on, and they lingered over dinner, which Steve felt she praised more than was strictly necessary, though it tickled him to hear her gush about it.

When there was finally a bit of a lull, in both conversation and music, she rose and went to the record player, selecting one and setting the needle down with a certain deliberateness. Moonlight Serenade. His breath caught in his throat. 

“Will you dance with me, Captain?” she asked, extending a hand to him.

He nodded, not entirely trusting his voice, and took her hand. Hesitantly, he put his arms around her formally, as he had seen Bucky do with his many dates. They stood for a moment like that, and she drew in a breath to speak, probably to teach him how to dance. Instead, he drew her close, swaying in time to the music. She melted against him, all heat and softness. They continued like this for a long time after the music had ended. She shifted first, to trail kisses against his neck, burying her hands in his hair and pulling to bring his lips down to hers. There was no hiding how much he wanted her in that moment, and she didn’t shy away. He mumbled something along the lines of did she want to and her response was a very enthusiastic yes. She lead the way to the bedroom this time. With permission and guidance, hands began to explore, then lips. Clothing fell away, and at some point they tumbled into bed. Every sense was on fire, heightened. He studied her intently, first out of disbelief that this was happening, next out of a giddy excitement to explore every part of her that she was gifting to him, and then to see how she reacted to each caress and kiss. She whispered words of encouragement, of instruction, of pleasure. It all moved excruciatingly slowly and much too fast. She finally guided him inside of her, the sweetness of it nearly obliterated him then and there. He held on for as long as he could, treasuring every sigh and moan he could gain from her, until he was lost completely.

When he came back to himself he started to pull away, suddenly acutely aware that he had no idea what he was supposed to do now. She clutched at him. “Stay. Stay with me for awhile.” Happily, he relaxed back into her, running his fingers through her hair, studying the strands in the moonlight. Eventually, reluctantly, she pulled away from him and disappeared and soon the music started up again.

“May I have the next dance?”

**Author's Note:**

> Much love and thanks to [Aegistic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Aegistic/pseuds/Aegistic) for the beta!


End file.
